


"My Éponine"

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Cosette, Bisexual Éponine Thénardier, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Musician Éponine, POV Éponine, Pianist Éponine, Slow Build, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Relationships: (past), Combeferre/Éponine Thénardier, Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier, Montparnasse & Éponine Thénardier
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Éponine finished her piece. It was her most famous one. It was comforting that the public adored the music as much as she did. Especially since it was dedicated to her first love.  
As the piece was so emotional, she took a couple of seconds, staring at her piano. It was well-cleaned and she could clearly see her reflection on it. Her face was distorted. More than any mirrors in the world she deemed this to be the most accurate depiction of her.

Finally, she was ready and she stood up to face the audience. Some stood and cheered. Within the small group of people who stood, she focused on the man on the front row. Due to light being harshly targeted on her, most of the audience looked like silhouettes. But not him. Not that man. His black hair transformed to brown as he stood up and his nose became round and his cheeks became bloated. By the time the man fully stood up, he was the spitting image of her first love, Combeferre.  
Her breathing increased in rate and she grabbed her heart which was aching. Her legs felt weaker like they were made of sticks and could snap at any moment. Air began to feel cold and sharp, like icicles digging into her lungs.  
She felt a creeping shadow beside her, and when she dared to look, she saw a lying body of the man she loved so dearly. She blinked, and he was gone, but her calmness did not return.

Montparnasse backstage realised the dangers and ran to her just in time as Éponine collapsed into his arms. He called out her name several times but everything was muted to her ears.  
Above, she saw bright, white light. It grew bigger and bigger until she couldn’t even acknowledge Montparnasse’s presence any longer.  
Her nose began to bleed as she began twitching.

Montparnasse ordered one of the staff to call the ambulance as he lifted Éponine in his arms. 

There were indistinctive shoutings and gasps that Éponine could care less about. Instead, she was fascinated by the scorching light above her.

Then her vision became black. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened and when she started sleeping, but she was sure she was in some kind of prison as she was paralysed and she couldn’t move.  
To comfort herself she imagined Combeferre. Just like that the darkness transformed into the bright world she once lived when she was nineteen. And Combeferre was staring at her with love in his eyes. His smile was slightly crooked and his cheeks were pink.  
They were holding hands and whispered how much he loved her. He looked behind him, then back at her. He kissed her hand for a few seconds, emphasising his love for her. When his lips left her hand, he turned to leave.  
Blushing heavily, Éponine yelled, “I love you too!”

The world then became black once more. She was reminded that was not what truly happened. Painfully the situation rewinded back to them holding hands. His expression was greatly different; he showed grief and ache in his face. When he looked behind him, there was a wave of workers marching. When he kissed her hand, it was because he knew it may have been his last interaction with her. When his lips parted her hand, he gazed at Éponine, longing for her to say something. Anything.  
Lastly, as he turned, she didn’t yell her love for the world to know. She whispered it, hoping he could sense it.

Éponine wished to move, and chase after Combeferre, attempting to change her memory, but her feet were glued to the ground. Immobalised, she began to cry as she called out his name.  
It was dark again.

Slowly, Éponine was able to feel her limbs again and move them. Unknowingly, the first thing she did was to squeeze her hand. In fear of the person being Combeferre, she refused to open her eyes.  
As if sensing her thoughts, the person spoke, “It’s me. I’m not Combeferre.”  
Éponine steadily rolled her head to view Montparnasse.  
“You should’ve listened to me,” He almost hissed, “You should’ve put off agreeing to this tour.”  
Éponine began to shed a tear in which Montparnasse’s expression softened with sympathy. “I thought of the Day.”  
He shifted in his seat and held her hand tight. “Forget about it. For now. You need to get better.”

It was then Éponine realised where she was: the hospital. She was on a bed and Montparnasse must have been sitting next to her for who knew how long, patiently waiting for her to wake up.

She exhaled in a broken manner and tried to stabilise herself as a result.  
It was the Day which was impossible to forget. There was no doubt in her mind Montparnasse would also never be able to erase the memory from his mind. 

He had been her friend for many years, ever since she was as little as eleven. He was her protector. However he handled grief differently. When his wife left him he overcame the pain by ignoring her existence. Due to this he tried his best to make Éponine’s treagedy disappear by reminding her to forget it ever played out. But it was difficult trying to make it happen.  
Montparnasse was also a man who found it difficult to open up. She didn’t even know he cared for her until for quite some time.  
The issue in this dynamic was that Éponine was the complete opposite of him. She was very empathetic to a fault. She wasn’t open about her past for definite, but she was open in her emotions. But since she knew him as a child, a part of her younger self breathed when she was near him. And that meant she didn’t want to show her weak side to him.

In fear of comfort which she knew he would fail to bring, she turned her head so he could not see her and began to silently cry.  
Noticing her wishes, Montparnasse exited the room. As he was walking away Éponine observed the blurry figure leave.

It was completely silent now. All the same she felt someone else was in the room, glaring at her. Without looking he knew where the person was- they were sitting on the chair where Montparnasse was previously sitting on.  
Her breathing patterns became fragmented again.

She had to face the truth.

She turned her head to see a brief shadow of a man before her vision cleared up to see an empty chair. Even though it was for less than a second she knew exactly who was momentarily there.

At last, in tired desperation she faintly called out for Montparnasse. She needed him beside her. She felt as if she was bound to her bed as if she was an insane patient. He was the person who made her feel grounded. Without him, she was off-balanced.  
She weakly cried out his name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to domestic violence.

The delay in her tour was inevitable. But it was only by a couple of days as Éponine fought that the incident was due to tiredness, not due to any medical reasons. Only Montparnasse didn’t believe her. That was because he knew of the Day that plagued her.

The next location was London, England. So the two travelled by flight. Éponine only had a day to settle before she would begin performing. Nervously she tapped her fingers. Beside her, Montparnasse noticed her, and held her hand. He assured her that she would be fine. She nodded but they both had doubts featuring.

As she played, she let her emotions loose; her frustration, anger, and love- she displayed it all through her piece. She was content with her performance which was rare.  
As she received applause, she turned to see Montparnasse. Was he proud?  
Backstage, he did nothing but grin widely and clap furiously. He thought this was her best performance. Éponine smiled back.

As always, there were a few people who wanted to congratulate her. Montparnasse guided her to them. They were all old fashioned and wore formal clothes. There was one woman, however, who stood out. She wore a beautiful, simple red dress that stopped above her knees. She wore nothing which showed her wealth. Éponine naturally smiled at her.

One of the questions she received was the meaning behind her piece. Éponine politely said, just as she rehearsed, “It is about the first person I ever loved. The piece was dedicated to them.”  
A middle aged woman gasped, “He must be very proud of you.”  
Her husband, she assumed, joined in, “And he must feel foolish of letting you go.”  
Éponine giggled quietly. It wasn’t the first time this type of response was given, but every time, every unforgiving time, she felt a sharp pang in her chest as her throat became dehydrated. 

She tapped Montparnasse and whispered, “Water.”  
He nodded, then smiled at the group, then excused himself.

After some more questions, the group dispersed apart from the blonde woman. “Was that man the person you loved?”  
Éponine stared in awe until she had to physically shake her head to snap out of it, “Montparnasse? No. He is dear to me, but my piece was dedicated to someone.. Else.”  
She nodded slowly, her eyes wide with curiosity, “What happened?”  
“What?” Éponine gave a polite smile.  
“I don’t doubt they were very special to you since you played so beautifully, but if the piece was for them, where are they?” She looked around to prove her point.  
Éponine’s expressions dropped. “I lost him.” She quietly muttered.  
Cosette, realising the implication, reflected her expression, “I’m sorry, I-”  
Éponine smiled to reassure her. “He fought, he tried his best, but I lost him.”  
Understanding her statement as a break up, The woman nodded. “A shame.” She commented, “I would never let you go.”  
Éponine slowly smiled- her real smile, not the rehearsed one. The woman was able to tell the difference.  
“Cosette.” She finally introduced herself.  
“Éponine.”  
“I know.”  
Éponine knew Montparnasse could return any moment. And she only had limited time in London, she wanted to spend the best time there. She figured she could achieve this with Cosette. “Are you free tomorrow?”  
She blushed. Realising she was staring at her for a few seconds without having given a reply, she speedily nodded to convey her excitement.

By the time Monparnasse arrived, Cosette was gone. Éponine stared at the water. “I don’t think I need it.” She stated.  
He gave out a large sigh.

Éponine met Cosette in a fancy restaurant which seemed to only serve lovers. Letting Cosette choose where they would eat was a good choice, she deemed for she would not have had the confidence to choose such a place.

When she saw Cosette, she forgot how to breathe for a second. Cosette looked phenomenal. She was wearing a sleeveless black dress, and even though there were no patterns nor glitter nor decorations on it, she was still breathtaking to look at. Éponine could not find a flaw in her physical beauty.

As the two sat down and ordered, Éponine confessed, “I’m not usually blunt, but I’m only staying in London for a few days, so that was why I may have been too forward yesterday.”  
Cosette giggled elegantly, “Then I think we should do a speed date. Unravel our lives really quickly. We would be like an old married couple by the end of the week.”  
Éponine couldn’t believe it. She really liked this woman.

While they revealed fun stories about when they were children, Éponine paused so many times, as she was hopping past the shards of her past. This consequently made her stiff.  
To make her feel relaxed, Cosette mentioned, “I have messy bits too. I don’t think there’s a lot of them, but don’t worry. I understand if you don’t want to reveal them to me.” She reached out her hand to hold Éponine’s.

After they finished their meals, Éponine suggested they should walk around- let Cosette guide her in the new city. Never had Éponine seen such an enthusiastic citizen, rattling on about stories about how the flower shop came to this street, or how this souvenir shop donated to the homeless, or how she saw two pigeons trying to breed on a police box down the road. Éponine laughed and listened tentatively to her. The words came to life and danced with her heart. How she talked became music itself.  
Like her words, she seemed to bounce as she walked. She also couldn’t stop pointing at places and she couldn’t stop smiling. Éponine’s face slowly dropped. If she were to reveal her burdens, could she really understand? She shook her head. They could date without her opening up…

Cosette noticed that she was losing Éponine’s attention. She stopped in her place. “Do you still love them?”  
“Huh?” She snapped out of her long thought.  
“The person you wrote about?”  
Éponine stared at her, then looked down in shame. She was being rude to her. On their date, she shouldn’t mention her past lover.  
Cosette soon realised how she may have been insensitive. “Let me tell you a story.” She smiled, but there was no real emotion in her eyes. At that moment she was wearing a mask like Éponine. “There was once a beautiful woman. All of London loved her beauty. But at night, she needed to feed her daughter. She wasn’t intelligent and so couldn’t get a well-paying job. She relied on the government but they halved the welfare grants.”  
Éponine held her breath for a second.  
“So she had to rely on… street jobs. She contracted a terrible disease, and passed away.” Cosette looked down on the ground, “That was my mother. Fantine was her name.” She shrugged, “She didn’t know the father, so I was tossed into an orphanage. I first grew up in an abusive household in which I escaped. Temporarily. But I was able to alert the Police in time. They arrested my adoptive parents and the Police officer graciously tucked me under his wings. And he’s my real father. Not the man who abandoned my mother.” She gave a dejected smile. “Turned out, the Police officer was married to the richest one percent in England.” She gave a forced bubble of laughter, “Sometimes I feel like Cinderella.”

Éponine truly didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she cupped her hand.  
“See?” Cosette kissed her cheek, “I understand.” Her eyes widened, “But you don’t need to reveal anything to me. The last thing I want to do is to make you feel uncomfortable.”  
Éponine’s blood pressure increased exponentially. She wanted to explain her past too, hold her hand and cry as she finally met someone who was open enough to relate to. But she didn’t. She held everything in. She was the type of people she didn’t like. Silent and closed off. 

They held hands and walked together, first aimlessly, then to Cosette’s home. Éponine wasn’t going to enter, but she wanted to make sure she made it safely. “Do you live alone?” Éponine asked.  
“Yes.” She confirmed.  
They walked for an hour and Éponine generally thought they were lost. Even the moon was up in the sky. But Cosette walked confidently, as always.  
“Are we near?” Éponine asked.  
“Yes.” She grinned.

They approached metal gates. Éponine recalled her saying that she was very rich, but looking at… she couldn't even call it a house, she was astonished. The place was huge and it practically intimidated her.  
Cosette whispered as if she was unsure if she should’ve spoken, “This was a date, right?”  
Éponine snorted. “Definitely.”  
“Good,” Cosette exhaled happily.  
This was the moment, Éponine thought, she may not see this woman again. She leaned in, and under the dark blue sky and the dazzling moon, the two met their lips. It was the first time Éponine kissed a woman.

When the two parted, Éponine assured Cosette her walking alone was safe. Cosette rightfully didn’t believe her. So, in front of her, she called Montparnasse and walked away as she waved goodbye. On the phone he asked Éponine why she woke him up, she apologised and said she forgot why she called him. Not finding this strange, Montparnasse hung up.

As Éponine walked alone in the street with her finger on the emergency dial just in case, she felt someone walking behind her. The person following her must have been good at hiding for everytime she turned, they disappeared in time. At some moments she saw glimpses of their black coat.  
She began to walk faster. When she saw a stranger walk in the same direction in front of her, she ran up close to the person as some sort of a protection. When she scanned around her again, there was no one there. She sighed in relief.  
“She’s not interested,” A voice said.  
Éponine stepped backwards and looked around. There was no one near her.  
“Cosette, was that her name?”  
Éponine recognised his voice.  
“You were unresponsive all night, you do realise this right? You were so boring Cosette rather talked about the time she was a lonely, abused orphan because it was better than trying to connect with you.”  
Éponine’s breathing increased “Who…?” Her head felt dizzy.  
“I’m the truth.” The man spoke.  
From the shadows of the alley way Éponine focused on, a figure emerged. It was Combeferre. His face was smothered in blood, with cuts crossing over his eye. His hands were dripping with his own blood, blocking out his skin colour.

Éponine jumped back and she began to run. He wasn’t alive. She saw him. That Day, she saw him.

When she reached her temporary residence, she fumbled on her keys, until she managed to push herself in. She fell onto the ground. Hastily, she swivelled to slam the door shut. Right before she could complete the task, she heard the clear voice, “You killed me.”  
She closed the door.

Stumbling, she wobbled to her room. In her bed, she forced herself to fall asleep. It wasn’t so difficult as she released so much serotonin she knocked herself to sleep.

This time her dream wasn’t pitch black although she was in a dark room. She was sitting on the bed and she was watching Montparnasse- younger Montparnasse sleep on the floor. He didn’t have a blanket as he didn’t have a spare. Rather, it was Éponine who was wrapped in the blanket. She was in shock even though she couldn’t remember exactly why her heart was racing.  
She turned her head and touched the cold window. She could see her house from far away. Then she shivered. She remembered why she was so scared. Her father was going to get her. This time, she felt Montparnasse wouldn’t be able to protect her.

She sat back down on the bed as if she was ordered to. Even when her father was not present, she felt as if she was constantly being watched by him.

She didn’t want to run away. She curled up. Montparnasse was only trying to help her. But she doubted he was going to save her. This wasn’t the first time Montparnasse took her to his place, refusing her parents to visit. However in one way or the other they would manage to pull her back. Then it was back to square one.

Éponine cried on the pillow. She was so frightened she was shaking.  
When she woke up, nothing changed. Éponine felt as if she never grew up and that she was the same person she was years ago; a frightened bird.


	3. Chapter 3

Éponine performed once more in London but pressed the wrong key. From then on she didn’t give her all in her performance. She had already messed up, she didn’t feel the point of trying much as it was destined to not be her best piece.  
But that didn’t mean she wanted to receive the applause either. She quickly went off stage in embarrassment and presented herself as rude. Montparnasse tried to convince her to go back up but she locked herself in the dressing room.

Then there were soft knocks on the door that definitely didn’t belong to Montparnasse.  
Cautiously, she opened the door to see a familiar face. “Cosette?”  
“Hi, ‘Ponine.” She waved excitedly.  
“What- what are you doing here?” She let her in despite her confusion.  
From behind her waist, Cosette pulled out a handful of tickets. “I know you’re going away soon so I bought lone tickets to every one of your performances.” She squealed then breathed deeply as if she imagined a therapist in front of her, “I know you might not-”  
“I want to spend more time with you.” They hugged, “Even if it’s just a couple of more days.”

“At least you can’t hurt her in that time.” The booming voice said nonchalantly.  
Éponine bit her tongue to keep her mouth shut; she knew better than to react to the voice.

In that afternoon they waited in an exaggerated long line to the London Eye. In front of them a couple was texting on their phones instead of talking to one another. Éponine felt as if she and Cosette deserved to cut in line as they had more chemistry than those around them at the given moment. She sighed loudly.  
Thinking this was an indicator of boredom, Cosette clapped her hand to gain the attention of her girlfriend, “We know the deep stuff and the funny lores which mould us to who we are today,” She mimed thinking, “Hmm, how about we talk about general stuff. It’ll be like… Trivia time!”  
Éponine laughed, “I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t go out much so I have no idea what that means.”  
“You’ll catch on to it,” She winked, “What’s your favourite colour?”  
Éponine thought for a while.  
“Mine is white. It reminds me of my mother in my dreams. I don’t have her now, but I had her when I was little.”  
“As in… skin colour?”  
“No, then my favourite colour would be skin colour!” she giggled, “I meant she wore the same white, plain dress.”  
Éponine nodded slowly. “Brown.”  
“Brown?”  
“Yeah. It reminds me of mud. Mud is fun. You can lie in it, roll around in it, and if applied correctly, clear your skin.”  
Éponine shrugged and Cosette laughed in response. She was too adorable. That was why she couldn’t tell her it was brown because that was the colour of Combeferre’s eyes… that would be too cheesy and creepy to say to her on a date.

“Okay. Favourite country.” Cosette clapped her hands again as if it was pressing the reset button.  
Éponine thought for a long second. “Sweden.”  
“Why?”  
“My favourite violinist was born there.”  
“Egypt.”  
“Egypt?”  
“I like ancient Egyptian mythology.” Cosette tried really hard to sound spooky with her ghost voice but it didn’t work. Particularly because there were no ghosts in the mythology… Or was there? Only one of them was obsessed with the myth.

“Okay, how about…” Yet again, Cosette clapped her hands. “Netflix.”  
“Amazon Prime.”  
Cosette gasped and listed shows which were on Netflix while Éponine listed shows off of Amazon prime.  
They jokingly argued for quite some time, it must’ve been, as they were somehow in the front of the queue when they stopped arguing.  
“Huh,” Éponine cocked her head.

When they got on the London Eye, they roamed around the glass ball as they began to ascend. Éponine couldn’t wait to see London from up high since she didn’t pay attention to it when she was on the airplane. 

As they rose to the mid-way point in terms of height, Cosette spoke, downcasted, “I’ve been here, on the Eye before. Once. With my father.”  
With care, Éponine watched her.  
“I was twelve. It was my second day of being adopted.” She strolled next to Éponine and held her hand as they saw the city get further and further away from them. “I remember London being more beautiful, though.”  
Éponine snorted.

She watched the two fly away, up into the sky. Her heart truly wanted to leap out of her chest with joy. From the very core of her being, Éponine wanted to do nothing but escape with Cosette together.  
“I feel on top of the world.” Cosette hummed.  
“We’re still ascending.” Éponine smiled.  
Cosette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was honestly heavenly in every sense of the word.

Éponine took a few steps back and pulled out her phone which began to play her favourite piano pieces of the last decade. “My Lady,” she deepened her voice for a comedic effect.  
It surprisingly worked because Cosette broke out of her trance with a giggle as she gave a little bow.  
“May I have the dance?”  
Cosette exhaled in jubilation. “You may.”

As they ascended higher and higher they could be seen slow dancing. There had never been more of a delightful manner of passing the time than this, Éponine thought.  
“First kiss?” Cosette asked, continuing their game which had been on hiatus.  
Éponine held her breath as she pushed out the name “Combeferre.” She didn’t want to ruin the mood by being gloomy to a good-intended question. At that moment as she pronounced his name, however, she felt as though she would’ve been shot by lightning.  
“Marius.” She said, digging her nose into Éponine’s shoulder. She gave a peck on Éponine’s neck and added, “I was eighteen. Pretty late to the party.”  
Éponine smiled and kissed her on the cheek, “Sixteen. I think that’s the normal age.” She pulled back from their dance, but still close enough so they had a thin space between the two faces.

Without knowing, yet with perfect timing, as they reached the peak height, Éponine leaned in and landed a soft kiss on Cosette’s lips.

Éponine stared scanned around. “We’re on top.”  
“Ha, nice.” Cosette high fived Éponine. “We made it.”  
She couldn’t do much but laugh. More and more was she enjoying her time with this petite blonde girl.  
“Let’s celebrate,” She gasped. “To the bar!”  
“Why?”  
“We’re English. Alcohol is always the way to go.” She innocently said as if recalling a world-known fact. Perhaps it indeed was, and Éponine was just kept out of the loop. Which was highly possible.

Éponine sighed. “Is it weird I don’t want this moment to end.”  
Cosette took her hand. “It doesn’t have to.” She rubbed her nose against hers. “Just revisit this memory. I’ll leave you a file. Ehem. Oh, hi, Éponine! Glad you're back. See? Now you can visit this moment any time.”  
Éponine smiled as Cosette kissed her again.

She didn’t even want to revisit this moment in her memory. If she knew one thing, it would be that her memory was not a reliable source. She would have rather let this moment live and go. She supposed this was progress. At least Cosette wouldn’t haunt her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote way too many kisses that it makes me uncomfortable. *sees notes* ah, shit, there's more to come, isn't there?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's mention of blood and reference to domestic violence.

As usual, she tried her best in her performance. As she reached for the high notes, she felt as she touched skin. She quickly glanced to see a bloody hand dancing next to hers. She paid no attention to it. Right now, there was no time for confusion. Every note was a mixture of emotional and strategic in the grand scheme of the melody.

Her hand started and she had to rearrange how she controlled her fingers. She usually stroked the keys, but now she felt as if she was smashing them in fear of ruining her piece. Instead, she played like a toddler rolling around the grad piano.  
She wanted to cry but she kept it in. She couldn’t play like she used to.

While Éponine and Cosette were walking down the street, Cosette carefully asked what happened in her performance. In contrast, Éponine shrugged as if music meant nothing to her. In fact she was so ashamed of her performance that day she didn’t want to talk about the moment.  
There was also the part of which didn’t want to admit she still had Combeferre living in her thoughts, and that she could never be free from the phantom.

Witnessing Éponine’s discomfort, Cosette warmly invites her to her home. Éponine blushed at the thought of it. Nevertheless she accepted the invitation.

At first, Éponine rehearsed how she would turn Cosette’s advances in a kind way. But like a lady, or maybe she was, Cosette didn’t do anything that could’ve been misinterpreted.  
Rather, the two sat round the fireplace, sitting on the floor, talking about their interests.  
At this very moment, Cosette revealed her favourite book, “Pride and prejudice.”  
Éponine thought that was the reason why they were still dating. The idea of opposites attract. Although as innocent as she appeared, she did reveal sensitive parts of her life… For her. Perhaps they were similar after all.  
“Frankenstein.” Éponine replied as she sipped her hot cocoa.  
The story of Frankenstein held importance to her. In her new school, she felt like a permanent stranger. Since she had so much time to herself she browsed the library from one end to the other. Unfortunately after she finished modern books, she turned to ‘classical literature’. As she read Frankenstein, guilt choked her as she could identify herself as the Creature. She translated this emotion into her low self esteem and her internal conflicts. However, when it was time for her class to study the story, she realised it was very common to prefer the Creature rather than its human creator, Victor.  
Suddenly, Éponine felt that she could open up and make friends, just like she did in her previous school.  
But this time, she was also able to catch the attention of the most interesting boy in school, Combeferre.

She smiled at the memory of their youth.

“Nice,” Cosette nodded encouragingly, “Both British authors.”  
She lifted her hand for a high five in which Éponine went for it.

Cosette then tapped her chin, then drank her cocoa as if she was at work. “How about, playing ‘would you rather’.”  
Éponine leaned in close to Cosette and helped put loose hair behind her ear to look at her eyes clearly.  
“What?” Cosette blushed.  
“I’ve… It’s just,” she beamed, “I’ve never felt so much at home.” Not even her apartments. As a matter of fact, ever since she was young she felt her father was hunting her. This paranoia didn’t last so long, but did consume a lot of her childhood. Whenever she ran away, no matter how close Montparnasse was to her nor how far their temporary home was from her original house, she never felt safe.  
She never felt home like she did now.

Cosette kissed her and pushed her with her mouth, wanting more. Reflexively, she pushed her away. “Sorry.” Éponine said. “I’m not ready.” She didn’t think she would ever be ready. “Co-Cosette.” She stammered.  
In the perspective of Cosette this was a sign of extreme discomfort in which Cosette had not been a favourable host nor girlfriend. She was haste to apologise to Éponine who pretended to listen.  
Why act? It was because she couldn’t hear Cosette’s words. In her eyes, she was staring at her bleeding Combeferre.

Éponine muttered that she had to go home, and wanted to kiss Cosette goodnight, but couldn’t even look her in the eye.  
She settled for a wave and ran to her apartment, but not her room. She helplessly banged a door in which responded quickly by opening up and revealing Montparnasse. He saw her expression and her reflecting eyes. Tiredness lifted from his face instantly, “Are you okay?”  
Éponine shook her head desperately.  
He let her in.

Montparnasse turned the TV off and sat with her on the couch.  
“I’ve been hearing Combeferre’s voice,” Éponine hesitated in every word, “But now I see him too, properly. I try to avoid looking at him.”  
Montparnasse grabbed her arm so her full attention was on him, “In order to make him disappear, you have to look directly at him. Hallucinations are never perfect. It’s easy to frighten a ghost constructed in your brain.”  
Éponine nodded slowly.  
“Don’t worry,” His hand travelled down to her hand. “It’ll go away soon.”  
Éponine shook her head, “It’s not just Combeferre, it’s Combeferre from that Night.”  
His grip loosened.  
“I can never erase him from that day.” She shivered. “He keeps coming back…”  
Montparnasse gently lifted her head to look into his eyes to convey trust. “Is he here?”  
Éponine slowly shook her head.  
“You’ll stay here.” He gave a quick smile. “Just like the old days. Sleep on my bed, I’ll sleep on this couch, okay?”  
Éponine hadn’t thought of this. She was thankful for his effort in helping her, after all these years he never left her side.

Éponine turned off the light and lay on his bed. It was burdensome to fall asleep, so she tried to remember one of the happiest times of her life, when there was no pressure.  
It was easy to think of when exactly. It was their picnic date. She offhandedly commented that such things were not real and were in fact fabricated lies weaved by the media and the unrealistic expectation of romance. Yet again Combeferre had gone over and beyond and created the best date, with nothing to anchor her back to reality.  
It was in their early stage of romance so much of their relationship consisted of whispering to one another, excited about the future of the two.

She remembered with great clarity of the scenery. They were on a white and red checkered mat with an oversized basket of cakes of all sizes and triangle-shaped sandwiches. She wore a white sundress while Combeferre wore a yellow shirt with dark blue jeans and trainers with worn out shoelaces.  
The air was hot but the breeze cooled them. They were underneath a giant tree. They sat on a grassy hill. It was perfect.

He leaned in and whispered how much he loved her. He reminisced when they first met. When they really met. It wasn’t in class. It was on the way to class. He narrated, “I remember you wearing the most beautiful dress under the bus stop. There was a pattern of cherries. It made you look cute. I finally had the courage to smile at you. From that day on I would always wait for you, just to see you in the dress,” He then began to giggle with her, “But that was the only thing you wore. Every school day, you wore the same clothes.”  
Éponine shook her head in embarrassment.  
“So, I bought you another dress. A dark blue one. Simple, as you like, and blue because that’s what we’re surrounded by. The sky and the sea all collapsing to a kneel to present you to me. Then do you know what happened?”  
Éponine giggled more. “I wore it everyday from then on.”  
“And you wore it everyday from then on.” He whispered.  
Eventually she stopped wearing the same dress once they began dating. Ultimately, it was her childish way to seduce a man who was already hypnotised by her.  
Éponine gave a meaningful, slow peck to his lips then rested her head on his shoulder.  
He brushed her hair with his fingers and kissed her shoulder. He leaned into her ear and added, “And I saw you get pushed out of the window into the concrete floor. I saw you bleed out. I saw Montparnasse watching your eyes- life fleeting away. He tested how long you could last. So, I watched with him, betting. It wasn’t until minutes he picked up the phone and called for an ambulance. He bet you would die on the way.”

In disgust, Éponine pushed him away from her, pulling herself away from him. Combeferre had suddenly grown a scar down his right eye, and where his eye should’ve been was pitch black, like a blot of ink on paper.  
Éponine couldn’t see properly anymore. Her vision was too misty for her to make out anything for definite.

And as if he knew, he relied on communicating with his words instead. She imagined his grin widening as he said simply, “It’s nice to know you haven’t changed- still pushing people away.”

Éponine woke up sweating. Combeferre was right. She had run away.  
She tried to sleep again, but failed to do so. She checked the time on her phone. Two in the morning. Éponine turned off her phone.

Fortunately the next day was a break in her performances. She had the full day with Cosette waiting for her. Éponine waited enduringly for the sun to rise.


	5. Chapter 5

On this day, the two could enjoy the sun together. It was early in the morning and they were strolling around London like an elderly couple, passing through national gardens holding hands.

Eventually they arrived in front of Buckingham Palace to watch the Changing of Guards.  
Éponine watched them march. Cosette was so excited, watching their every move. Éponine’s eyes wandered down to the guards’ feet. Their stomps rang in her ears. She could hear loud chattering of the youths and the working men. Some were shouting and cursing while others murmured about their plan of attack.  
Above all, she heard his voice. She heard Combeferre.

Without saying anything, Éponine backed away and left Cosette alone in the crowd. She prayed Cosette wouldn’t notice. Fortunately, she was able to slip away and find herself in her room, forgetting her journey back home. She was so distracted.

It was only minutes later she realised how inconsiderate and rude she was that she turned on her phone to find missed calls from her. She stared at the red telephone symbol. All she had to do was call back.  
Her phone began to shake and her breathing patterns became irregular. Feeling as though she was being crushed in her chest, she turned off her phone and tried to calm herself. She then tried again, but settled to text her instead.  
She tried writing heartfelt texts with paragraphs and paragraphs about how she was feeling and how she always felt her past was chasing her.  
With her head being dizzy she instead sent ‘I’m sorry, I need to be alone’. Understanding how this may present her to Cosette, she sent hearts to show she truly cared about her.  
But her heart felt like it could be squeezed out from her throat. Desperate to breathe, she rushed to the window and stuck her torso out, only barely managing to balance on the window sill so she didn’t fall.   
It only helped a little and she still felt heavy. Like she was a boulder sinking into the depths of the deepest, darkest ocean, unknown if she ever existed in the first place.

Breaking her away from feeling anonymous was a text. At first she thought it was from Montparnasse as no one else really tried to contact her. But obviously it was Cosette; she just wasn’t used to others being around her, caring for her despite her constant need to push others away.  
Cosette was surprisingly understanding and texted her back rather than calling her. Éponine smiled, remembering her from earlier in the morning, looking so beautiful.  
She began to cry because it frustrated her. It frustrated her that she couldn’t spend more time with Cosette. It frustrated her that she wanted to run away from a person who held her dear. It frustrated her because Cosette never noticed her disappearing…  
Éponine insulted herself. She was so selfish she doubted she was human for she felt as if she had no empathy.

Wanting an early sleep, she lay on her bed for many hours, but not being able to descend into her dreams. This wasn’t necessarily a negative thing, Éponine tried to twist, she had so many nightmares of bad memories, she wasn’t quite sure if sleeping was something she honestly wanted.  
This was probably why she was still awake- her heart wanted her to open her eyes, keep herself distracted.

So, Éponine went on her phone. She scrolled down the news. It had been awhile since she heard anything from home. Montparnasse had told her while they were on tour not to remind herself of her home. This was a reasonable concern. But Éponine had to know.

As she scrolled, she found her old small town to have remained the same. Nothing too big happened. Although she did come into contact with an article which revealed there was an unsuccessful strike from the labourers who demanded more pay.  
Instantly as she read the headline she dropped her phone. She audibly gasped as tears fell down her cheek. In front of her she hallucinated the moment of their farewell.

The two people in front of her were young: almost adults. Éponine was wearing a hat and had mittens on. Combeferre wore a thick jacket. It was winter yet Éponine saw no snow nor felt the harsh winds, although she did shiver as she saw the two interact in front of her.

Combeferre held Éponine’s hands and kissed her mittens. He was smiling widely, “I’m going to join them.”  
“What?” Éponine took a step back. Both Éponines protested, “No.” albeit with different levels of volume. The past Éponine spoke as if she was scolding Combeferre. The present Éponine spoke as she was gasping for air while the ocean waves attempted to swallow her whole.   
“Babe, you know what they do, right?” Éponine reached for Combeferre’s cheeks to show care, “They’ve been vandalising the place for years now. Nothing has happened. Their pay is still low. The best thing is to peacefully protest. You lose support as soon as you show violence.”  
Combeferre shook his head, obliviously grinning, not knowing what the future held for him, “Violence means we can get their attention. One attack, Éponine. That’s all we need to make a change. If vandalising didn’t get their attention, this definitely will.”  
Éponine held his hands tightly. She opened her mouth to say ‘I love you’ but she was too scared.  
He smiled sadly as if he knew what she wanted to say. He kissed her cheek.

The room returned empty.

Éponine covered herself with her blanket and began to cry, biting her finger so she didn’t wail.

She remembered the marching. She remembered the workers gathering their belongings. They didn’t have much weapons, most of them readied their fists.  
She saw many of them smile, including Combeferre.  
Their smiles brought sunshine to the area. Éponine couldn’t help but smile with them. She felt as if she belonged in the group. Holding Combeferre’s hand tight she chatted with others, riled up about the fight. During that day, that fateful day, she believed they would win.

When she woke up, she didn’t know she had fallen asleep. Confused, she picked up her phone and stared at the time. It was almost three o’clock. There was a chance Cosette was awake. She pressed her contact and studied her picture. She was smiling in the wind, watching something off-camera.  
She looked so happy. Éponine couldn’t believe she was able to take that photo while they were together. It seemed surreal.  
It would’ve been so easy to call her. Even if she wasn’t awake, there would be no down-side to calling her, she reminded herself.  
However she also remembered how vicious she was to Cosette in the day. She couldn’t be a bother to her. Not again.

She held her blankets tighter and squeezed her eyes shut.

She dreamt of nothing but pitch black. She was glad this was so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so bad Éponine kept having nightmares.  
> So I changed it up a little :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence and blood, etc !!

On the performing night, she was in tune with the music. She was laying her heart on to the instrument, burying her deepest emotions with every press of the key. Unlike her last attempts, she was going to pour all her soul and meaning into it. Before, she felt strings were tied to her fingers, obligating her to continue. Now, she felt she was flowing with the music, merging harmoniously.  
This allowed for the music to drive her memory. And this time there was no mist, no barricade, nothing to slow her thoughts nor misdirect it. She saw the event clearly and distinctly. She saw the Day.

At first, the day couldn’t have been any better. It was sunny but not too hot. She was walking back home from work. It was the day the workers were rebelling.  
As she was getting closer to her home, what she thought were whistles in the wind became louder and louder. The indistinctive chatters transformed itself into ugly cries.  
Éponine’s steps became faster as her heart dropped.

The shoutings became clear as she was able to see a wave of people screaming towards her, trying to find a sanctuary. The Police were attacking them…

She was glued to her place. There were two routes. She could hide at home, or she could venture out, risk being targeted. At least she could find Combeferre. 

As the wave approached and filtered as the workers fled to houses nearby, Éponine had to make a choice. Any moment now. Any moment. Any…  
She began hyperventilating. “Shit,” she hissed in between her breaths.

Then the window from her room opened with Montparnasse searching for her. When their eyes met, he immediately shouted at her and summoned her into the house. He begged her, “Come in now! There’s danger in the streets! Please! I can’t lose you!”  
He closed the window as if possessed and supposedly ran down to the ground floor to grab her.

Éponine knew what she had to do. The Police were only brutal, not murderous. Combeferre would be fine, only marked with a few scars.

She ran back into the house and took shelter in her room, the safest place she felt. From across the room, Montparnasse guarded the door as some of the Police entered houses in search of the workers.

Through the window she saw the chaos unfold. Repeatedly whispering to herself, she promised they would get better. Their injuries weren’t permanent; for example the man who lay on the ground, embraced by his blood was okay, he was breathing. For the woman she saw, dragging another woman with a mangled leg was fine. They were both safe… Éponine averted her eyes as the Police approached the two.

It was at that moment she could see Combeferre. He was hectically running, his form messy, almost falling, aiming to enter her house, she thought. But he was caught. Rather than attempting to escape he decided to stand his ground, punching a Police officer. Their partner hailed their baton to Combeferre’s left eye which made him kneel to the floor. Yet he screamed, managing to stand up again and miss a punch before being kicked in the back of his knee. This time he was unable to get up. The police officer shamelessly raised his baton and hit him in the head.  
His body fell limp.

Éponine was convinced he passed out. She imagined running to him after the mayhem sizzled out and he would roll on his back, laugh while gargling blood in his mouth and saying she was right. Violence was maybe not the right path. From then on, he would listen to her and they would run away from this hell.  
But he never got up. Éponine almost pressed her face against the glass window, awaiting at any moment he would move. She focused on his chest. It would rise. It had to.

The front door seemed to have been kicked in. Éponine didn’t notice. She kept watching.  
Montparnasse was shouting orders at her; she didn’t listen.  
Combeferre had to rise.

One police officer entered the room in which Montparnasse took him by surprise and easily knocked him out.  
“We have to go.” He said as he pulled Éponine away.  
“No!” She screamed, beginning to cry. She wailed like a kid.  
“We have to go, Éponine!” He lifted her and carried her by placing her on his shoulder.  
Due to the shock Éponine managed to quiet down, although her heart never stopped bombarding her with large bangs.

Sneaking away, Montparnasse exited out of the back door, managing to avoid the second police officer in the house.

Once he stumbled to the outside, he saw violence surround them like water filling its container.

Uncertain if they could make it, Montparnasse stuck to the shadows on the back of the house and refused to move, thereby camouflaging the two from the hunters.

Éponine still hadn’t said a word.

She thought ritualistically, ‘The Police won’t kill’. That was all she heard and all she cared about.

The notes ceased all of the sudden. Éponine forgot she was performing in front of a crowd. 

There was a scatter of applause until it built up to a weak applause. Éponine wanted to cry. This could’ve been her best performance, yet she failed. Again. 

To comfort herself so she wouldn’t have any troubles with breathing and irrational misery, she searched for Cosette. And there she was. In the place she always sat. With beauty, she observed. But upon closer inspection Éponine realised her sparkling eyes weren’t of awe or admiration but of concern.

After the performance Cosette asked what happened. She cut herself off in case the question was too rude and personal.  
Unsure how her body would react if she did tell the truth, Éponine took Cosette’s hand and suggested for them to go to a comfortable, safer place.  
Cosette nodded and the two travelled to Éponine’s temporary residence.

When at Éponine’s home, Cosette talked about her funny orphan stories. There was a faint shadow of despair and hopelessness in her narrative, back when she thought she wasn’t going to be loved. Her smile was wide but empty in some jokes.  
But since she was joyful most of the time when she was talking, Éponine tentatively listened, absorbing every bewitching word.  
Entranced by her voice, she didn’t realise Cosette had reflected the question and asked her of her childhood stories. Cosette immediately bit her lip and was about to apologise.  
Before this could happen Éponine hushed her and smiled. She didn’t need to hear an apology from her. She never needed to. Always did she know there was good intention behind every question.

Éponine searched for happy moments before she moved with Montparnasse, away from her abusive home. “I always found piano as an escape… I would feel as if I was falling down a rabbit hole, into another universe.”  
Cosette nodded on.  
Éponine cocked her head. “Did I tell you I also learnt the guitar?”  
“What?” Cosette leaned in. “Did you really?”  
Éponine enthusiastically nodded her head, adoring her reaction. “I wasn’t really good, but I could write songs. I can write one to you right now.” She beamed as she fetched her guitar.

It had been a while. There was no dust on it but it felt unfit for her arms and fingers. But Éponine pressed. She wanted to play for her. Cosette, her lovely girlfriend. Uncontrollably she beamed as she returned back to her.  
Cosette had a glass of wine in her hand. “Do go on, love.” She sipped her wine.  
Éponine laughed gently as she began with simple chords. This transformed to a pattern of chords which would compliment features of Cosette she adored. Her eyes, her puffy cheeks, her flowy blonde hair, and so on. There was so much she wanted to fit in, but it would become cramped.  
Éponine realised that was how much she loved her, there was so much emotion it was a shame she couldn’t express it.

In adoration, Cosette placed her wine on the wooden floor and crawled closer to her.

Éponine was blessed with the realisation she loved this woman. But how would she express it? She tried to find the right tune, and finished with the new combination, different to the rest she played to emphasise it.

Cosette covered her mouth when it ended and lightly clapped. “It’s beautiful.”  
This wasn’t enough. Éponine needed to say it. She couldn’t say it to Combeferre, but she learnt from her lesson. She should’ve had. In a burst, she said accidentally loudly, “I love you.”  
Cosette’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? It’s been a week or so…”  
Éponine blushed, ‘You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted… to tell you… how important you are.”  
Cosette took a second until she giggled as she cupped Éponine’s cheeks in her hands, “Well, I like you very much.”

Éponine smiled softly back. “Do you want to stay over?”

Nothing happened apart from sleeping next to one another. It was nice to feel warmth beside her. Éponine had a companion. Loneliness left her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of domestic violence.

Since Éponine usually heads to her performance with Montparnasse, she followed this routine, but with Cosette beside her.  
Montparnasse opened his mouth then closed it shut. Frankly he didn’t want to know.

While on the car ride, Montparnasse asked Cosette if Éponine had been a favourable girlfriend or just too moody.  
Éponine sighed loudly to imply she wanted Montparnasse to stop talking.  
However Cosette merely said she liked how Éponine was- just the way she was.  
Éponine blushed and now it was time for Montparnasse to groan.

Backstage, Cosette was allowed to stand next to Montparnasse. Cosette couldn’t explain how honoured she felt. She glanced at Montparnasse who watched Éponine with his arms crossed. Thinking this was the only appropriate behaviour, Cosette copied his stance and expression. She didn’t want to stand out like a sore thumb.

Éponine continued the same pattern she always did. She played and at intervals the audience clapped. When she thought she did a specifically excellent job, she searched for Cosette in her usual place only to find an empty chair. This was out of habit, and Éponine reminded herself to look at the backstage to see her act like a clone of Montparnasse. Éponine giggled.  
She continued playing.

This time, she didn’t want to play the same thing over and over again. Her heart wasn’t listening to the music and it left her feeling bored. From time to time she would look at Cosette to refill her energy, but her pieces were so… depressing.  
Many of the pieces she wrote were a reminder of the pain of the past. She wanted to move on. Start fresh.

After she finished her last piece, she ignored the audience’s applause and started playing with the piano. Just like she did with the guitar the night before; she improvised.  
She closed her eyes and envisioned Cosette. For the first time in many years she completed writing and performing a piece while smiling.

When she finished she understandably received a confused applause. But upon focusing on their faces she could see them smile. She was able to make the people feel the same way as she did.

However when she returned to the backstage Montparnasse was not amused. Disliking his face, she turned to see Cosette who was almost jumping up and down, “That was amazing.”  
“It wasn’t, blondie.” Montparnasse grunted.  
“Hey,” Cosette and Éponine both said.  
“It wasn’t as good as your other works.” He huffed, “If you want to write sunshine in notes, I support you. But you have to write it first. Tweak it, edit it. Don’t just throw it in the wild. Especially as your last performance. It’s a letdown.”  
Éponine looked down and watched her feet as she murmured, “I’m sorry.”  
Montparnasse didn’t say anything in return.  
Cosette gasped in response, “You can’t believe him, I thought that piece was wonderful.”  
“Only because she wrote it for you.” He snapped back.

Éponine gracefully took Cosette by her arm and walked away, leaving Montparnasse behind.  
She could hear indistinct complaints from Cosette about how she should stand up to her friend at times. This could have been the time Éponine explained to her what their relationship was. That Montparnasse saved her. More than once. He saved her on the Day. He saved her when she was pushed out of the window by her father. He quickly ran by her and called the ambulance. When her father tried to stop him, he left her to fight him, protecting her as a result.  
The matter of fact was she would always put him above everyone else. That she valued his thoughts and advice more than anything. But as always Éponine didn’t tell her. She figured Cosette was soon going to be on the top of the list as well.

Trying to make Cosette forget about the mild fight, she took her to their first date in the restaurant. Éponine revealed how she wished to visit the islands in the U.K. Cosette laughed and admitted she dreamt of the same wish to. “To be alone.” She sang.  
“Together, though, right?” Éponine raised her eyebrow jokingly.  
“Absolutely.” They clinked their glasses.

As Éponine walked her home, London’s weather finally obeyed its stereotype and started raining. Cosette stiffened up. “I don’t like the rain.” She said. She grabbed Éponine’s hand. “Let’s run.”  
They both laughed as they tried to outrun the inevitable.

They stopped under the bus stop. Laughing, Cosette admitted, “It’s fun to do something unexpected.” She tried to dry her hair by squeezing it.  
From the bottom of her heart, Éponine didn’t know why she would want to do this as she found her even more beautiful.  
Passionately, they kissed.

But that would be too easy. Combeferre entered her mind. In sudden shock, Éponine pulled back, biting her tongue so she didn’t say his name.  
This time she was able to clearly see Cosette. Combeferre was gone, but her heart still stung and her stomach was performing tricks, making her feel slightly dizzy.  
“I’m sorry,” Éponine breathed heavily.  
Cosette gave a slight smile then looked away. Feeling sympathetic, she invited Éponine to her house. She had said it felt like home. Maybe there she wouldn’t be so haunted…

It was great at first. Cosette was on her lap, making out and Éponine felt safe with Cosette in her arms.  
But Cosette wanted more and her hands searched for her skin underneath her clothes.  
Éponine abruptly stopped her. “I’m uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I don't want to go any further.”  
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” She stood up and sat beside her, burying her face in her hands.  
Éponine watched her lovingly. She was so understanding. But she knew what was coming; she was going to initiate it. But for a few seconds before, Éponine watched her, observing every little detail about her. With all her soul she wanted her by her side.  
She held her hand but before she could speak Cosette asked, “Is it because of Combeferre?”  
She immediately stood up and stumbled backwards, away from her. “How did you know?”  
Cosette smiled sadly. “He was your first kiss. I also know he was your first love. Montparnasse told me while you were performing.”  
Éponine shifted in place.  
“Do you still love him?”  
“No,” Éponine was quick to respond, “No, no…” She gradually sat down beside Cosette. “Yes.” She said. “That was because he was the first person who knew me without the harsh details. And he was the first person I loved romantically. And there was nobody for a long time. Then you came along.”  
Cosette placed her hand over hers as she echoed, “And I came along.”  
Éponine smiled and leaned in but was denied a kiss. This time it was her who asked “What’s wrong?”  
She breathed deeply. “I need to know what happened. Tell me everything.”  
Éponine held her breath.

Then she told her. Of everything. How she was abused severely by her parents, snuck out with Montparnasse to his home, waking up in nightmares that her parents tracked her down. She always seemed to return until the day she was pushed out of the window of her bedroom after a physical fight against her father. How she lay there, bleeding, her head smashed and her legs broken. She told her that Montparnasse then adopted her and ran far, far away, to an impoverished area- because that was the only place he could afford.  
Then she told her of Combeferre. How long they dated and how much they loved each other.  
Then she told her of the day when the workers were chased and beaten up. Some were unfortunate to die, and among the pile of corpses, there was Combeferre.  
She told her before she arrived in England she hallucinated him. That she fainted.

Then Éponine tried to smile, stroking Cosette’s arm, saying her life became uplifted when she met her. That she didn’t want to let her go.

Cosette nodded.

Éponine added that she herself was being selfish. That she kept Cosette in the dark because she wanted her to linger; so that once she was deep in their relationship, she couldn’t turn away, that she had to be forced to look after her.  
Cosette was surprised.  
Éponine shuffled back to give her space. She apologised, “That was wrong of me. I know that now. It was hard to admit I was the villain of this situation.”  
Cosette shook her head, “It’s not your fault. And I’ll stay with you until you’re okay. I’ll always be here.”  
“No.” Éponine said, “I had Combeferre always lurking in my head, in every corner of my mind. Are you sure you’ll be okay with me thinking of him? It won’t take a couple of shocks to get rid of him, Cosette. It will take longer than that. Much longer.”  
Éponine kneeled in front of Cosette and held her hand tenderly, “Could you promise me you could be with me through all the pain I am going to experience? Could you handle it?”  
Cosette hesitated, “What are you saying?”  
“I’m giving you an easy way out. Before the relationship gets too… real. I’m giving you the first exit.”  
Cosette wouldn’t speak, her tears welling up.  
“Could you?” Éponine begged for an answer, “Every shaking moment, every scary night, could you support me?”  
Cosette put her hand over hers. She began to cry. She turned her head so Éponine couldn’t see. Soon, her entire body was facing away from her. She was shaking.  
Éponine carefully watched her.  
Cosette continued to sob. Suddenly she turned her head and looked at her. It was painful. Her eyes were big and leaking with uncontrollable tears. “I’m so sorry.” She said.

Éponine understood.

She deserved better, she knew that. Cosette was the kindest person she met, but she knew Cosette would become exhausted trying to comfort her everyday, handling her disappearing behaviour from every now and then. It was hard.  
“You’re absolutely stunning, marvelous, fantastic, and every positive word in the dictionary, Cosette,” Éponine sniffed as she wiped her tears. “Goodbye.”


	8. Chapter 8

In her last performance, she was able to let fragments of her heart fall into the notes and let them get washed away. For her last piece, she wanted to dedicate it to Cosette but when her eyes led her to her usual seat being empty, Éponine froze for many seconds. It didn’t seem right.  
Éponine continued to play but her emotions in the piece were artificial. No one noticed apart from Montparnasse. 

At the end of her performance she kept her tears until she was sheltered from the spotlight. She ran into Montparnasse’s arms and squealed in pain.

The tour in England was over and Éponine begged for a break. There was one place she wanted to visit and she didn’t know how long she was going to stay there.

She only took Montparnasse with her. It was to her home. Their home.

As they approached after a long train ride, he whispered if there were going to be any experience that was too painful for her she could reach for him. He would make sure she would be perfectly fine. She linked her arm with his as they entered their old home.

Éponine knew where exactly she wanted to go. She asked hesitant Montparnasse to enter her old room alone.

It was under her pillow. A torn and smudged photo of Combeferre. It was the only photo she had of him. She had thought she would have overcome the despair as she was travelling but that wasn’t so. This time she wasn’t going to leave his photo. He was going to be with her on her journey.

When she arrived back to the ground floor she saw Montparnasse stroll slowly and touch devices in the kitchen. It must have brought him back memories. Just like it did to her. She wondered what he would be thinking about. He had no family and none of his friends ever visited their home. This was most likely due to her family having been his friends, and well, they didn’t treat her well. Perhaps inviting his friends over could’ve been scarring for her.

Montparnasse noticed she had been staring at her for a long time. In his own time, he approached her and stretched his hand out. She took it.

As they were leaving their town, a familiar female voice called out, “Éponine?”  
She froze. She couldn’t quite place where she had heard the voice before. “Yes?” She swivelled round.  
“Éponine?” The woman called out again until she bumped into her and wrapped her arms around the young woman.  
It was Combeferre’s mother.

There were several people who raised Éponine; it wasn’t only Montparnasse although he did lift most of the heavy weight. Unquestionably her biological parents did none of the work except feed her from time to time. But Combeferre’s parents were more nurturing than she ever hoped. They accepted her into the family almost instantly.  
So when she invited her to her home she undoubtedly accepted the offer.

Together as a family Montparnasse, Combeferre’s mother, and Éponine drank tea together. For some reason his father was missing.

The mother brought out a photo album, showing her Combeferre as a baby, toddler, child, preteens, then to teens. Éponine kept her voice quiet so it wouldn’t have been obvious she was close to tears.  
Then the mother flicked through the point in the page where young Éponine was holding Combeferre’s hand.  
The page which followed also had her in it. And the next page.

Éponine gasped.  
“You are a part of our family, Éponine,” She gently spoke.  
Éponine hugged her. “And you were like my mother.” She then shifted in her seat. “Where’s your husband?”

Then as if on cue the father jogged into the room, “I found it, honey.”  
The mother jolted up.  
Confused, both Éponine and Montparnasse stood up as if called for attention.

The father then gestured for Éponine to approach him. With a little push from Montparnasse and the encouraging smile of the mother Éponine stumbled forwards.  
“Ah, Éponine, it’s been such a long time,” He smiled sadly, “When you were gone we had to clean little ‘Ferre’s room. It was heartbreaking and many times did I grasp my chest believing I would join him soon. Your music helped me back on my feet.”  
Éponine forgot how to breathe, what he was saying was music itself to her.  
“Then I found this little box.” He gently grabbed her hand and placed the small box in her palm. “Open it.”

And so did she. Inside, there was a slightly shiny golden ring. Éponine didn’t show a reaction due to the shock of what this meant.  
“He knew he found the one, Éponine.” The mother embraced her. “He wanted to marry young and run off with you into the sunset.”  
Éponine looked up, tears flowing down uncontrollably. “Why didn’t he?” She exhaled feeling as if she was losing him once more.  
Montparnasse hugged her and whispered assuring words.

The mother softly spoke, “We have no child. We wanted you to carry this ring.”  
Éponine refused to accept it but both of them stressed she should keep it. “I will.” She weakly said, so much so she didn’t even believe her own words.

In the evening, the two departed on a train, sitting side by side. Éponine wasn’t sure if she could continue performing.  
In silence, Montparnasse yet again read her mind and tried to assure her. “Think of this as Combeferre’s phantom.”  
Éponine didn’t move.  
“The ring making its way back to you, think of it as fate.”  
Éponine didn’t show a particular reaction, she only closed her eyes.  
“It’s a sign of him passing on his blessing. You can eventually move on now.” He spoke, biting his inner cheek for saying something so insensitive.  
Knowing he meant nothing but good, like he had been for many years, Éponine showed that his words brought her warmth by letting her head rest on his shoulder.  
“It doesn’t mean romantically, necessarily,” He rambled on, “Just… That you can let go… In time.”

Éponine understood what he meant. She tried to imagine Combeferre proposing to her, what kind of speech he would give.  
She imagined Combeferre standing in front of her, on a snowy day. He smiled at her. But it was strange. His smile was off. She moulded his face, maybe his jawline was incorrect, maybe his eyes were shaped differently…  
Realising what she meant, she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. When she was ready to face Combeferre again and opened her eyes, there was no one there. In her hand there was a small box. Despite it being a dark winter’s night, she didn’t feel alone nor a sense of dread or fear.  


Éponine opened her eyes.  
“I believe, from the bottom of my heart, you will get better.” Montparnasse sincerely said, nodding.  
She muttered. “I believe it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, a happy ending?? That's so unlike me.


End file.
